


suffering inside your magic

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Boy Meets World
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, POV Jack Hunter, Sharing a Bed, s05ep21: honesty night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: "I like him," he'd admitted, hoping Eric could hear what he wasn't ready to say.They'd held one another as the others watched and again later that night in between kisses as Eric listed things he liked about Jack, clueless as to the effect it was having on his heart.
Relationships: Jack Hunter/Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140





	suffering inside your magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thehotgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotgirl/gifts).



> for @thehotgirl as a thanks for your beautiful fic. I hope you always write ❤︎

> _There's not a bone in my body that's not weak for you_

_Well if you find one let me know_

—[Amy Shark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSc9r8O_k4A)

  
  
  
  


_Why do you stay?_

Cory's question knocked around in Jack's brain hours after he'd asked it, demanding attention. A simple _because I like him_ should've been enough to suffice but three a.m. disagreed. 

Why does he stay despite Eric's shenanigans? His inane _shrieking_ at the television? His midday sobbing, soap opera and popcorn binge that made studying impossible? His insufferable word a day calendar? 

His competitive nature that even spilled over into bedtime and found him ruthlessly yanking the blanket off Jack and telling him if he couldn't appreciate the _sliver_ of fabric he'd been given, he could sleep on the couch. Jack had never taken him up on that of course, choosing to engage in a petty silent game of tug of war throughout the night instead. 

He glanced over at Eric who seemed to be more burrito than human and narrowed his eyes. 

"No...no toe socks Jacky," said the pile of blankets, distressed. "Puppets don't have feet fingers." 

Okay so sleep talking _wasn't_ on the list of reasons why he chose to stay and some nights it kept him awake but tonight, when his brain wasn't allowing him a moments peace, he didn't mind. And then there were the nights where bad dreams would find him and he'd wake up shaking and sweating, anxiety breathing down his neck.

He'd gravitate towards Eric and cling to him like a vine. Comfort came in the form of an incoherent mumble that sounded vaguely like his name. 

You make me feel safe when nothing else does, he thought. 

He reached out in the darkness and smoothed a hand over the mess of Eric's hair.

"I love you," he whispered. Bedhead and all.

He'd came to the realization only days before Cory and Topanga's argument over their differences. 

* * *

Last Thursday morning and he'd just laid out Eric's clothes for the day and ventured into the kitchen to find a pot of coffee waiting with a note beside of it. 

_Coffee for my hottie_

_-Eric_

He'd reread it three times before pocketing it and humming to himself as he poured two cups, pulled out sugar and Eric's disgustingly sweet creamer. Offkey singing from the bedroom carried through the air as he sipped and flipped through the word a day calendar.

He froze on _irrefragable_ upon realizing he was hearing the same tune he'd been humming. It'd been stuck in his head for days though he hadn't shared it, and Eric had apparently added lyrics though he couldn't decipher them.

Coffee back on the table and he thought okay universe. Okay, I see you. 

He'd kept it to himself until Shawn and the kitchen and residual pot roast and Cory asking a question Jack had yet to ask himself. 

God help him he'd fallen in love with a guy who jumbled sentences with astounding confidence. Someone who preferred tacos to reservations, who opened the door to greet a pizza delivery guy in nothing more than smiley face boxers and a t-shirt at 2 in the afternoon, who caught raindrops on his tongue like they were snowflakes, who talked back to Alex Trebek during Jeopardy. 

Who hugged Jack with his entire heart and soul. 

He'd wanted everyone to know. 

"I like him," he'd admitted, hoping Eric could hear what he wasn't ready to say. 

They'd held one another as the others watched and again later that night in between kisses as Eric listed things he liked about Jack, clueless as to the effect it was having on his heart. 

* * *

"So much," Jack added. 

"'Julia," Eric slurred in response. 

"No, Julia doesn't love you," Jack corrected, pulling his hand back. " _I_ do. We don't even _know_ a Julia."

"Don' lisn' Julia...he jus' wants your pies."

Jack shook his head, feeling like an idiot. Pies, Julia, the cooking shows Eric had recently started watching-

He was dreaming about _Julia Child_ and not some girl he'd found attractive enough to remember her name. Knowing him, he'd probably add Martha Stewart to the dream roster next and Jack would have to remind himself that even though she _could_ actually cook and he couldn't, she wasn't his competition. 

Just as he was turning his head to glare, a sudden weight heaved itself in his general direction and landed on top of him. 

"Save 'is pies..." 

"Eric," he hissed. " _Eric_ . I can't— hmmpt— ya know what? You can have the entire blanket but you _can't_ have my side of the bed." He wriggled in protest and a cold nose brushed against his neck, hair tickling his cheek. 

"No Julia don't-" 

"Fine," Jack relented. "Fine, we'll save the pies. Peach or pumpkin? Apple?"

Why not follow the crazy train? Who needs sleep? 

"Bonespunkin," Eric slurred. 

"That was _one_ time," Jack countered. You get gravy and pumpkin puree mixed up _one_ time and never hear the end of it.

Eric's rebuttal was an indecipherable muffled mess and so Jack didn't bother gracing it with a response. He glanced at the bedside clock and nearly sobbed when it read 3:40 a.m. If he was lucky he could salvage three precious hours before the alarm went off. 

With that in mind he sighed, long suffering, and freed an arm to wrap around Eric. 

At least he was warm. 

  
  
  



End file.
